kissed, which I suppose to be the Bible, or at least the New Testament, which teaches me that all things whatsoever I would that men should do to me I should do even so to them. It teaches me, further, to remember them that are in bonds as bound with them. I endeavored to act up to that instruction. I say I am yet too young to understand that God is any respecter of persons. I believe that to have interfered as I have done, as I have always freely admitted I have done, in behalf of His despised poor, is no wrong, but right. Now, if it is deemed necessary that I should forfeit my life for the furtherance of the ends of justice, and mingle my blood further with the blood of my children, and with the blood of millions in this slave country, whose rights are disregarded by wicked, cruel and unjust enactments, I say let it be done. Let me say one word further. I feel entirely satisfied with the treatment I have received on my trial. Considering all the circumstances, it has been more generous than I expected; but I feel no consciousness of guilt. I have stated from the first what was my intention and what was not. I never had any design against the liberty of any person, nor any disposition to commit treason or incite slaves to rebel or make any general insurrection. I never encouraged any man to do so, but always discouraged any idea of that kind. Let me say, also, in regard to the statements made by some of those who were connected with me: I fear it has been stated by some of them that I have induced them to join me, but the contrary is true. I do not say this to injure them, but as regretting their weakness. Not one joined me but of his own accord, and the greatest part at their own expense. A number of them I never saw and never had a word of conversation with till the day they came to me, and that was for the purpose I have stated. Now I have done.'

While Brown was speaking perfect quiet prevailed, and when he had finished the judge proceeded to pronounce sentence upon him. After a few preliminary remarks, he said that no reasonable doubt could exist of the guilt of the prisoner, and sentenced him to be hung in public on Friday the 2d of December following, which sentence he received with composure."

Subsequently the six remaining prisoners were tried and sentenced to death, and all seven paid the penalty of the law on the gallows. They were, beside Brown, Stephens, Coppic, Cooke, Harrison, whites, and Green and Copeland, blacks. Two of the whole twenty-two only ultimately escaped death.

The intense sectional agitation in Congress growing out of the tragedy at Harper's Ferry will long be remembered. It was at this time when for weeks it seemed as if the destinies of the country held on a single thread, in the apparent impossibility of carrying on the government, through the failure of Congress to organize, that the Hon. A. R. Boteler, member from this district, in a speech delivered in the House, touchingly related one of the most beautiful incidents in our revolutionary history:

"The district which I represent, and the county where I live-that county made famous by the raid of John Brown-was the first, the very first in all the South, to send succor to Massachusetts in the time of her direst necessity! In one of the most beautiful spots in that beautiful county, within rifle shot of my residence, at the base of a hill, where a glorious spring leaps out into sunlight from beneath the gnarled roots of a thunder-riven oak, there assembled on the 10th of July, 1775, the very first band of southern men who marched to the aid of Massachusetts. They met there, then, and their rallying cry was "a bee-line for Boston." That beautiful and peaceful valley-the "valley of the Shenandoah"-had never been polluted by the footsteps of a foe; for even the Indians themselves had, according to tradition, kept it free from the incursion of their enemies. It was the hunting range and neutral ground of the aborigines. were far beyond the reach of danger. of your fathers were threatened with represent rallied to their protection

The homes of those who lived there then But Boston was beleaguered! The hearths pollution, and the fathers of those whom I

They left the plowshare in the mold,
Their flocks and herds without a fold,
The sickle in the unshorn grain,
Their corn half-garnered on the plain,
And mustered in their simple dress,
For wrongs of yours to seek redress."

Thus they mustered around the spring I speak of, and from thence they made their "bee-line for Boston." Before they marched they made a pledge that all who survived would assemble there fifty years after that day. It is my pride and pleas

ure to remember that I, though but a child then, was present at the spring when the fifty years rolled round. Three aged, feeble, tottering men-the survivors of that glorious band of one hundred and twenty-were all who were left to keep their tryst, and be faithful to the pledge made fifty years before to their companions, the bones of most of whom had been left bleaching on your northern hills.

Sir, I have often heard from the last survivor of that band of patriots the incidents of their first meeting and their march; how they made some six hundred miles in thirty days-twenty miles a day—and how, as they neared their point of destination, Washington, who happened to be making a reconnoissance in the neighborhood, saw them approaching, and recognizing the linsey-wolsey huntingshirts of old Virginia, galloped up to meet and greet them to the camp; how, when he saw their captain, his old companion-in-arms, Stephenson, who had stood by his side at the Great Meadows, on Braddock's fatal field, and in many an Indian campaign-and who reported himself to his commander as "from the right bank of the Potomac"-he sprang from his horse and clasped his old friend and companionin-arms with both hands. He spoke no word of welcome, but the eloquence of silence told what his tongue could not articulate. He moved along the ranks, shaking the hand of each, from man to man, and all the while, as my informer told me, the big tears were seen rolling down his cheeks.

Aye, sir, Washington wept! And why did the glorious soul of Washington swell with emotion? Why did he weep? Sir, they were tears of joy! and he wept because he saw that the cause of Massachusetts was practically the cause of Virginia; because he saw that her citizens recognized the great principles involved in the contest. These Virginia volunteers had come spontaneously. They had come in response to the words of her Henry, that were leaping like thunder through the land, telling the people of Virginia that they must fight, and fight for Massachusetts. They had come to rally with Washington, to defend your fathers' firesides, to protect their homes from harm. Well, the visit has been returned! John Brown selected that very county, whose citizens went so promptly to the aid of the North when the North needed aid, as the most appropriate place in the South to carry out the doctrines of the "irrepressible conflict," and, as was mentioned in the Senate yesterday, the rock where Leeman fell was the very rock over which Morgan and his men marched a few hours after Stephenson's command had crossed the river some ten miles further up.

May this historical reminiscence rekindle the embers of patriotism in our hearts! Why should this nation of ours be rent in pieces by this irrepressible conflict? Is it irrepressible? The battle will not be fought out upon this floor. For when the dark day comes, as come it may, when this question that now divides and agitates the hearts of the people shall be thrust from the forum of debate, to be decided by the bloody arbitrament of the sword, it will be the saddest day for us and all mankind that the sun of Heaven has ever shone upon."

Winchester is 32 miles south-west of Harper's Ferry by railroad. Its population is about 6,000. It is beautifully situated in the rich and fertile valley of Virginia, about twenty miles west of the Blue Ridge. Winchester was settled at a very early day, and in Braddock's war Washington had his headquarters here. A fort was erected in the place under the name of Fort Loudon, which was then the frontier post of Virginia. In 1781, 1,600 Hessian prisoners were confined in barracks west of the town.

In the Presbyterian grave-yard at Winchester is the grave of Gen. Daniel Morgan, the brave commander of the famous Virginia rifle corps of the revolution. The monument, a plain slab, states that he died July 6, 1802, in his 67th year. Howe, in his "Historical Collections of Virginia," published in 1845, says:

At the end of the war Gen. Morgan retired to his estate, named Saratoga, a few miles from Winchester. After the expedition against the insurgents in the Whisky

insurrection, he was selected from this district to Congress, where he served two sessions. In 1800 he removed to Winchester, where, after a confinement of two years from extreme debility, he expired. The house where he resided and died was the frame building now (1844) occupied by the Rev. Mr. Boyd, in the northwest part of the town. His widow moved to Pittsburg. His two daughters married officers of the revolution.

A writer in a recent number of the Winchester Republican has some interesting facts respecting Gen. Morgan, which we here annex

This 'thunderbolt of war,' this 'brave Morgan, who never knew fear,' was, in camp, often wicked and very profane, but never a disbeliever in religion. He testified that himself. In his latter years Gen. Morgan professed religion, and united himself with the Presbyterian church of this place, under the pastoral care of the Rev. Mr. (now Dr.) Hill, who preached in this house some forty years, and may now be occasionally heard on Loudon-street. His last days were passed in this town; and while sinking to the grave he related to his minister the experience of his soul. 'People thought,' said he, 'that Daniel Morgan never prayed'—'people said old Morgan never was afraid'-people did not know.' He then proceeded to relate in his blunt manner, among many other things, that the night they stormed Quebec, while waiting in the darkness and storm, with his men paraded, for the word to advance, he felt unhappy; the enterprise appeared more than perilous; it seemed to him that nothing less than a miracle could bring them off safe from an encounter at such an amazing disadvantage. He stepped aside and kneeled by the side of a munition of war, and then most fervently prayed that the Lord God Almighty would be his shield and defense, for nothing less than an almighty arm could protect him. He continued on his knees till the word passed along the line. He fully believed that his safety during that night of peril was from the interposition of God. Again, he said, about the battle of the Cowpens, which covered him with so much glory as a leader and a soldier, he had felt afraid to fight Tarleton with his numerous army flushed with success, and that he retreated as long as he could-till his men complained-and he could go no further. Drawing up his army in three lines on the hill side, contemplating the scene, in the distance the glitter of the advancing enemy, he trembled for the fate of the day. Going to the woods in the rear, he kneeled in an old tree-top, and poured out a prayer to God for his army, and for himself, and for his country. With relieved spirits he returned to the lines, and in his rough manner cheered them for the fight; as he passed along they answered him bravely. The terrible carnage that followed the deadly aim of his lines decided the victory. In a few moments Tarleton fled. 'Ah,' said he, 'people said old Morgan never feared'-'they thought old Morgan never prayed, they did not know'-'old Morgan was often miserably afraid.””

Staunton is 120 miles W. N. W. of Richmond by railroad, in the valley of Virginia. The Western Lunatic Asylum and the Virginia Institution for the Deaf, Dumb and Blind is situated here. The celebrated Weyer's cave is about 18 miles N. E. of the town.

Lexington, 35 miles southerly from Staunton, and, by railway, 35 miles north-westerly from Lynchburg, is the seat of Washington College, endowed by Washington himself, and founded in 1798; also of the Virginia Military Institute, a highly flourishing institution. Gen. Samuel Houston, of Texas, was born near the town.

The Natural Bridge is 14 miles south-westerly from Lexington, 172 from Richmond, and 213 from Washington. The mean hight of the bridge, from the stream below to its upper surface, is 215 feet 6 inches; its average width is 80 feet, its length 93 feet, and its thickness 55 feet. This curiosity is nature like art, with the proportions of art, on the very spot where art would otherwise have been required for the construction of a bridge. It is unique. No structure exists like it. An eloquent foreign visitor says:

"You will have no just conception of this masterpiece until you get below. You go some little distance for this purpose, as in the vicinity of the bridge the rocks

are far too precipitous. A hot and brilliant day is, of all others, the time to enjoy this object. To escape from a sun which scorches you into these verdant and cool bottoms is a luxury of itself, which disposes you to relish everything else. When

down, I was very careful of the first impression, and did not venture to look steadily on the objects about me till I had selected my station. At length I placed myself about one hundred feet from the bridge, on some masses of rock which were washed by the running waters, and ornamented by the slender trees which were

springing from its fissures. At my feet was the soothing melody of the rippling, gushing waters. Behind me, and in the distance, the river and the hills were expanding themselves to the light and splendor of day. Before me, and all around, everything was reposing in the most delightful shade, set off by the streaming ravs of the sun, which shot across the head of the picture far above you, and sweetened the solitude below. On the right and left the majestic rocks arose, with the decision of a wall, but without its uniformity, massive, broken, beautiful, and supplying a most admirable foreground; and everywhere the most delicate stems were planted in their crevices, and waving their heads in the soft breeze which occasionally came over them. The eye now ran through the bridge, and was gratified with a lovely vista. The blue mountains stood out in the background; beneath them, the hills and woods gathered together, so as to enclose the dell below, while the river, which was coursing away from them, seemed to have its well-head hidden in their recesses. Then there is the arch, distinct from everything, and above everything! Massive as it is, it is light and beautiful by its hight, and the fine trees on its summit seem now only like a garland of evergreens; and, elevated as it is, its apparent elevation is wonderfully increased by the narrowness of its piers, and by its outline being drawn on the blue sky which appears beneath and above it! O! it is sublime-so strong and yet so elegant-springing from earth, and bathing its head in heaven! But it is the sublime not allied to the terrific, as at Niagara; it is the sublime associated with the pleasing. I sat and gazed in wonder and astonishment. That afternoon was the shortest I ever remembered. I had quickly, too quickly, to leave the spot forever, but the music of those waters, the luxury of those shades, the form and colors of those rocks, and that arch—that arch -rising over all, and seeming to offer a passage to the skies-O! they will never leave me!

The Peaks of Otter are 35 miles south-westerly from Lynchburg. They are two exquisitely beautiful conical peaks in the Blue Ridge, some two miles apart, and rising to the hight of more than a mile above the level of the sea. From the summits, on one hand the eye has uninterrupted range as far as vision can extend over the comparatively level country of eastern Virginia; on the other are mountains piled on mountains, until blue of mountain and blue of sky mingle in the far distance in one undistinguishable tint.

The Natural Tunnel, another of the many natural curiosities of Virginia, is in Scott county, in the south-western part of the state, near the line of Tennessee. It is a winding passage through a mountain of 450 feet in length and in places 90 feet in hight. A stream of water flows through it and a stage road over it.

The White Sulphur Springs of Greenbrier, the most celebrated of all the watering places of Virginia, are 9 miles easterly from Lewisburg, about 170 from the Ohio River at Point Pleasant, 242 south-west of Washington City, and 205 west of Richmond. Its situation is in a charming valley, environed by mountains. Fifty acres, perhaps, are occupied with lawns and walks, and the cabins and cottages of the guests, built in rows around the public apartments, the dining-room, the ball-room, etc., give the place quite a merry, happy village air. There is Alabama-row, Louisiana, Paradise, Baltimore and Virginia rows, Georgia, Wolf and Bachelor rows, Broadway, the Colonnade, Virginia lawn, the Spring, and other specialities. The cottages are built of wood, brick and of logs, one story high; and, altogether, the social arrangement and spirit here, as at all the surrounding springs, has a pleasant, quiet, home sentiment, very much more desirable than the metropolitan temper of more accessible and more thronged resorts.

The Blue Sulphur Springs are 22 miles from the White Sulphur, in a valley surrounded by mountains on three sides, presenting wild and picturesque scenery. The water is similar to that of the White Sulphur.